


Incomprehension English Version

by Lunalalune



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lemon, M/M, One Shot, Romance, domInk, subError
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26375551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunalalune/pseuds/Lunalalune
Summary: "Couldn't he destroy a universe quietly without this idiot of a painter intervening? Error kept brooding about it. It seemed that Ink liked to put obstacles in his way, only to stir up his rage and resentment. Because one doesn't come and tell Error that Ink was doing this out of kindness! The Creator was all but 'nice!"
Relationships: Errink, Ink/Error, Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 93





	Incomprehension English Version

**Author's Note:**

> This story is obviously not canonical, please do not refer to it if you are looking for canonical information. 
> 
> This is a translation of my French text, feel free to let me know if there are any errors!

Couldn't he destroy a universe quietly without this idiot of a painter intervening? Error kept brooding about it. It seemed that Ink liked to put obstacles in his way, only to stir up his rage and resentment. Because one doesn't come and tell Error that Ink was doing this out of kindness! The Creator was all but 'nice'! How could he have been a monster without a soul, and therefore without feelings?

Oh, don't answer, it's been a long time since Error asked that question. After centuries of struggle, he had simply given up trying to understand his opposite, just fighting it and trying to destroy it. Even though his vials had intrigued him for a moment, he had quickly swept aside his questions about their use, especially since he had tasted them on his own, only to spit it out with disgust, a disgusting feeling of paint in his mouth.

What a horror.

Error didn't understand Ink and didn't try to understand him. Error hated Ink and did not try to love him. Error only wanted to destroy the AU’s quietly, those AU's that didn't have to exist, that had to disappear, even if it meant 'killing Ink'.

No....... Let's rephrase: EVERYTHING if it meant “kill Ink!”

Error was only dreaming of the day when he could smash this cheeky kid, show him who was the most powerful in this rotten multiverse! Oh yes, he did...

And today seemed like the perfect day. Just like all the other fucking days when the Destroyer had deigned to leave his void to destroy an AU, and Ink had shown himself all smiles before him.

A classic face to face between the two rivals.

Error growled at the sight of his opponent's big smile. Another frustrating point with the Creator: He was far too happy. SEEMED much too happy. He hated that laughable smile that reminded him that it was all fake, overplayed. He hated that smile that reminded him that in front of him stood a rag doll with fake emotions.

But that didn't stop him from gloating, imagining that he would scrape it off and put it on its opposite side. A scrape that would make him cry. And if he couldn't get tears out of him, he would force him to swallow his blue paint, the paint that gave him bad emotions such as sadness.

Oh yes, Error was gloating in advance.

“Your last hour has struck the artist!” cried the Destroyer, sniggering, drawing his wires.

Ink giggled quietly, not the least bit impressed:

“Oh Error, at least deign to be a credible villain! You're giving me a really cliché sentence here!”

Error tensed, terribly upset, shooting his opposite eye. Cliché? You're kidding me. He shook his head, dispelling the thought. What did he care about being a cliché? He was going to shoot the little fucker anyway!

“I don't give a shit! Today, I'm going to end it once and for all...

\- Erroor, cliché!

\- My revenge...

\- Cliche!

\- I'll get you... !

\- Cliché!”

Error spat for half a second, his magic crackling with anger as he felt his soul fill with a deaf rage. Damn it, if that bastard interrupted him again, he'd make a bloodbath, even if it meant self-destruction !

Ink seemed to perceive his anger as he raised his hands in peace, laughing again:

“Alright, alright, I'll stop! Let's get down to business!

\- I thought this would never happen!”

With a broad smile on his face, Error threw his sons towards Ink, who easily dodged them with a simple leap into the sky. The painter now approached with a mischievous smile, darting a sneering look at the Destroyer before throwing himself in his direction, coming to strike him with his brush, narrowly missing his stroke, dodging himself a riposte to better counterattack and project paint.

Accustomed to this kind of blow, Error teleported himself further away and made a Blaster appear, firing without the slightest hesitation, and Ink was forced to move away, leaving part of the AU to be pulverized, something that snatched a grunt from the painter:

“Error, damn it, you can't be!”

Hearing an artist swear was already a feat and Error congratulated himself inwardly, but he didn't intend to stop there and went on with his blaster again. Ink, although annoyed by the damage, found his playful smile again, which accompanied him in a new dodge, before he tried a second time to spray paint ... to hiccup in amazement when his arms were blocked by a wire.

Error had seen it coming and giggled darkly. Oh, he could have fired his Blaster again, but he knew Ink well enough to know that he would take advantage of the magic shot to free himself somehow. Accustomed and unwilling to take the slightest risk, Error approached his opposite, still gloating:

“Well, artist, aren't we struggling?”

Ink did not respond, his head down, his body inert, which inflated the Destroyer with misplaced pride. So the painter surrendered to him so easily? After all his centuries, this was how their rivalry came to an end? That the Destroyer would win?

BUT OF COURSE IT SMELLED LIKE A TRAP IN HIS FACE! But hey, Error had a right to delude himself, didn't he?

Anyway, it was Ink who shattered his illusions. As soon as the Destroyer was nearby, the Creator had no trouble swinging his legs forward, grabbing the Destroyer by the waist and bringing it back against him.

Error found it hard to understand that yes, Ink had just imprisoned him with his legs, and yes, he had lost his balance to come and meet his opponent's body, ending up with his face in the mocha scarf. And no, Error didn't have the opportunity to smell the delicious smell of the garment, simply because he glitched from the first physical contact, petrifying like a statue, his magic sizzling more beautifully and out of his control, making the thread that held Ink disappear.

The Creator, freed from his bonds, immediately teleported several meters back, letting Error fall to his knees, the mine bewildered, still not recovered from this contact.

Ink rubbed his neck with embarrassment, a sweet laugh escaping him:

“Excuse me Ruru, did I come on too strong?”

Moment of silence... before a scream of rage shook the AU. Ink swallows as he perceives his rival's hateful gaze slowly returning to him. But he could barely hold his laughter: how could he take the Destroyer seriously when his face was so blue with embarrassment?

“Own Error, you're so cute when you blush!

\- INK!!”

The Creator had just enough time to rush into a portal before Error pulverized the place where he stood a moment earlier.

And Error, with his soul beating far too fast, started brooding again: couldn't he destroy a universe quietly without this idiot of a painter intervening?

*** ***

Couldn't he enjoy the multiverse without this moron coming to make a mess? Ink kept thinking about it. You'd think Error was provoking him, just to get his attention! Because you don't come and tell Ink that Error was destroying the AUs for fun! All pleasure ended up drying up, especially after so much time! Unless the Destroyer has made it his business to exterminate the AUs? But for what purpose?

Oh, don't answer that. It has been a long time since Ink asked that question. After centuries of struggling, he had simply given up trying to understand his opposite, just fighting it and enjoying the distraction it brought him. For Ink, although annoyed by the destruction of AUs, was content to indulge in this rivalry with glitch. He was the only one who could stand up to him, and the painter didn't have this permanent fear of destroying him.

As a Creator, he could not afford to interfere with the proper functioning of the AUs and refused to fight anyone for fear of inadvertently killing an important element of any universe. 

But Error didn't belong in any universe. He was an Sans with a corrupted, buggy code.

An Sans he could kill without consequence.

Except that Error defended himself well, terribly well, and the painter had to resort to the vilest tricks to get out of it.

That's what made their rivalry so interesting.

Ink didn't understand Error and didn't try to understand him. Ink made fun of Error and didn't try to make friends with him. Ink just wanted to have fun, and if that meant taking on the destruction of some codes, he could accept it, even if it gave Error the illusion of victory.

No .... Let's rephrase: EVERYTHING if it gave the illusion to Error to get the victory!

Ink only dreamed of the day when he could show Error that he was never in control, never had the power to defeat him. Error only had the power to stand up to him, nothing more. But even if they were equal in power, Ink still concealed many malicious tricks that would soon make the Glitch fail!

And today seemed like a perfect day to reveal some of them. Like every day the Creator was quietly making his rounds, only to suddenly feel the essence of AU crumble, disintegrate, and discover that Error was the cause of the slaughter.

Yet another classic face-to-face between the two rivals.

“Damn it, still in my paws!” Error got angry as soon as he saw him.

Ink didn't hide his laughter. He had taken care to swallow his yellow potion before coming, allowing him to be in the good mood that his rival so loathed. The painter even made a wide smile on purpose in order to taunt the glitch even more! 

“So Ruru, did you miss me?

\- Shut up!”

Ink quietly dodged a wave of wires, almost yawning in front of this classic move. Oh, it was always like this: they both started with familiar attacks, before moving into real exchanges of blows. 

By the way, it was Ink's turn to play and he quickly grabbed Broomie to ...

To ...

His hand closed on empty. He blinked his eyes, freezing on the spot, under the perplexed look of Error.

“Eu... released Ink in spite of himself.

\- .... You've got to be kidding me.

\- Um...

\- Did you really get your ass back without your brush?”

No, no no no no, it wasn't the kind of... Yes, actually it was, it was perfectly Ink's kind of thing to forget such a thing. He was losing his mind, the Inky, running around and - incidentally - lacking a soul. No wonder he went off to fight without his fetish weapon!

Error, hallucinated, pouffed softly before leaving in a mad laugh of the most sincere, holding his belly so much he laughed:

“I must be dreaming. You're really too stupid!”

Ink swelled his cheeks:

"Oh, I'm fine! It happens to everyone!

\- No way! Mwahahah, you're ridiculous! Laughable!”

A grin distorted the face of the Destroyer:

“Don't count on me to spare you ~”

He was about to attack the painter again, but the latter's smile had widened, making him shiver with fear:

“Oh Ruru, don't underestimate me ~”

Under the astonished eyes of Error, the Creator abandoned his Vials belt, freeing himself from a weight other than his brush, while in his gaze shone a mischievous gleam:

“I'll make you bite the dust!”

The Glitch sneered:

“We'll see about that!”

They threw themselves at each other, in yet another battle. 

Error summoned several blasters and fired without thinking, wishing to take advantage of the weakness of his opposite. But was he really in a state of weakness? The Destroyer had a doubt when he saw him move so easily, dodging all his attacks, rushing at him at breakneck speed!

Error hiccupped when he missed a punch, backed away, forbidden and frightened. He realized too late, and with fright, that Ink was perfectly capable of standing up to him with his bare hands!

“Usually my business slows me down!” the artist cheerfully explained as he noticed his confused look. “I must admit it's a good thing I forgot my brush today!”

Error wavered, a violent shiver running through it, unpleasant and rough. So what, from the beginning Ink wasn't fighting hard? Was that a joke? He couldn't believe it for a moment, because if he believed it... if he believed it, his fear would only be greater, a fear he was already struggling to master.

“Faster or not, it makes no difference to me!” the Destructor weighed down as he attacked him and his sons once more.

Ink smiled mischievously as he didn't move... only to dodge the attack at the last moment, revealing his superior speed as he reveling in Error's apprehension.

The Glitch began to really lose his temper. Not only was the artist fast, but he took advantage of every dodge to get closer to him! What was he trying to do? Why didn't he teleport directly to him if he wanted to do so much? Was he trying to make some kind of pleasure last? Pleasure to see the Destroyer go mad with panic?

“GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Error shouted, firing a much more powerful blaster blast, its magic increasing tenfold under the effect of anguish.

Ink sneered .... To suddenly lose his pupils, a terrifying smile appeared on his face.

Error swallowed, lost sight of his opponent when the ray of energy hit him hard, causing an explosion that raised a good ton of dust.

The Destroyer remained forbidden. Did it hit Ink? Normally he would have thought so, but now ... he expected his opponent to come out of the smoke screen and approach him at any moment, mocking him.

It didn't happen.

For Ink appeared behind him:

“Boo.”

Error screamed loudly, turned around much too quickly, almost slipped like a fool before petrifying himself sharply, turning pale when he found himself a few millimeters away from Ink. 

His phobia of contact immediately yelled at him to back off, but he couldn't do it. Not with the way Ink looked at him, that look that grabbed him, that made him feel like he was trapped by sharp claws.

He swallowed:

“... Back off.”

Ink pouffa, finding his yellow and blue pupils without losing his mischievous smile:

“Why?” he whispered. “I don't even touch you ~”

But it was so close, much too close for the Destroyer to get any closer.

“Ink, I'm going to kill you.

\- You keep repeating yourself Ruru! 

\- Back off or I'll smash you!

\- Roh... Are you really asking me to abd-ink-ate?”

Error raised an archway:

“...Abdinkate?

\- Abdicate ... Abdinkate ...”

Stupid joke that made the Destructor growl:

“If you're looking for an audience for your lousy puns, you've hit a bone.

\- A nice bone then. I never get tired of looking at you! ~”

No sooner had he finished his sentence than the Creator whipped a bone in his stomach with his fist, which propelled him several meters backwards in a muffled yelp. Well, he hadn't stolen that one, but he didn't regret it. Seeing his face turn blue again was well worth it!

“You've got to be fucking kidding me all the time!” exclaimed the raging Glitch as he materialized two blasters, his magic crackling with uncontrollable anger.

Ink laughed with laughter as he straightened up, his belly was aching and his face looked embarrassed:

“Oh Ruru, don't take it like that, I was joking!

\- I don't want to joke with you! We are not friends !”

The Creator sighed, rolling his eyes, and said:

“I know we're not friends. But we can fight each other and still have a good time. Aren't you having fun standing up to me?

\- I'm going to have fun with you!”

Ink puffed up his cheeks, realizing that he couldn't get anything out of that stubborn head. It seemed that the sympathy was not reciprocated unfortunately. That pushed him to get up, his head down, his face darker than before.

Error mocked him, preparing his attack:

“Well artist, are you going to start crying?”

He dreamed about it. He dreamed of the moment when he would finally make his rival break down, when he would make him break into tears. When he'd see him moping and praying for his miserable life. Where he would no longer play the saviour, where he would no longer wear the mask of the 'hero' that everyone agreed to give him! 

It was hard for him to think like that: Ink's laughter froze him, causing him to sweat cold, which only accentuated a little more the pressure that had been established.

“I started to cry... ? Why would I do that?”

The artist raised his head, his pupils missing again:

“With your words, you've confirmed that I don't have to restrain myself in front of you. 

\- Wha... ?”

Error perceived the sound of a teleportation as he took a fist in the face, which made his eyes widen and burst violently on the ground, while his blasters disappeared. Amazed, he rolled to his side, dodging a kick in-extremis, to get up sharply and grab Ink's arm with a wire.

So the artist wanted to play this? Error found a semblance of a smile: oh ... he too hadn't revealed all his power yet! 

He tugged on the wire, sending Ink waltzing against a tree, but the Creator received himself against the trunk - which cracked under the shock - and used his support to propel himself back to the Destroyer. The Destroyer teleported itself into the heavens to dodge, before landing on one of its blasters and firing at Ink.

The Creator sharply disengaged from the wire, his pupils turning yellow as he teleported back to the blaster, appearing behind Error, whom he grabbed the sweater to pull him back. Realizing that Ink was seeking new physical contact with him, the Destroyer weighed down violently and snapped his fingers, dematerializing the blaster and causing it to fall along with its opposite.

Surprised to find himself in freefall, Ink let go of his opponent and looked down at the ground, which was getting dangerously close. Far from being impressed, he burst out laughing while his pupils took the form of two golden stars, signs of his excitement: 

“Youhouuuuuuuuuuu!” he cried, spreading his arms wide, savoring this moment of aerobatics, under the disillusioned gaze of Error.

The Destructor, perplexed, concentrated more on his rival than on the ground. Damn it... Wasn't Ink supposed to feel nothing about himself? Then... how could he go through so many emotions in such a short time? How exactly did his vials work?

Error came back to his usual answer: he didn't care. All he cared about was what was going on right now. And at the moment ... he was surprised to find the painter incredibly cute, with his overexcited childish pout.

He choked on his own thoughts. He choked on his own thought. Ink, cute?! 

“Shit... !”

Turning blue from head to toe, he growled loudly and teleported, disappearing abruptly to leave his opposite in the air. Opposite which raised its head in confusion, not understanding its sudden departure.

“Error?”

But the glitch was gone. Sighing, Ink's body materialized into ink, allowing him to wipe away the fall without the slightest harm. In a splash of sound, the painter touched the ground. His body returned to its normal appearance and he quickly glanced around him, but Error had indeed disappeared from this AU.

Ink sighed again: he liked their rivalry ...

*** ***

Why was he facing such a pain in the ass? Of all the monsters of the multiverse, it had to be a stupid and sticky painter who became his opponent, what a hell! Not to mention the fact that this moron took a male pleasure in playing with his weak point, which was his phobia of touch.

Error grumbled, burying himself further into his pouffe, cursing the artist, his gaze on the infinite void of the void.

“Ink... you bastard...” he weighed for his own pleasure, raging against the oddball who was definitely blowing his brains out.

It was that Ink had become more and more tactile lately, to his great misfortune! Error's bugs were becoming more frequent, and the Destroyer - although he didn't show any - was dreading the moment when things would really get out of hand, when Ink would end up taking advantage of his weakness to kill him ....

Because Ink was not 'nice'. Ink was just an empty shell looking for fun, and when he got tired of it....

Error swallows. No, he wasn't afraid of Ink! Why would he be afraid? Because the painter was starting to prove to him that he was more powerful than him? That he could be ruthless? That he was definitely not the naive little skeleton who played the hero?

The Glitch shook his head. No, he wasn't afraid. He really wasn't. At least he was trying to convince himself he wasn't.

He blew, opened a portal to UnderNovela. He had to take his mind off it, otherwise he'd go crazy.

But no sooner was he caught up in his 'show' than his mind slipped away, returning to Ink once again. It was the height of terror that such a cute looking being was actually so terrifying! To tell the truth, if he didn't know the existence of the vials, or even the absence of Ink's soul, he would probably have been fooled like the rest of the multiverse. I must say that he had the face of an angel, the Inky. And well, between his laughter and his mischievous look, there was something to be tormented about.

Anyway, I mean... It didn't affect Error, of course! Did it? Ahah, no, the Destroyer was completely above that!

And yet, as he felt his face warmed to that kind of thinking, Error froze. His fingers tightened on the footstool.

**[ Shit ]**

**[ Fucking Shit ]**

Ink was having an effect on him? He opened his eyes ... before he accidentally sprayed his beanbag, believe it or not. The impulse caused him to burst on the floor, and his annoyance was all the greater.

He roared with rage as he hit the ground with his fist:

“Damn it!”

He had to destroy Ink.

He had to destroy him before he could spiral for good.

*** ***

He had to destroy it, that's what he decided. Then why the hell was he on the ground again, stuck on the floor by bones stuck in his shoulders?

“Fucking painter... !” he exclaimed, grinning in pain as he tried to free himself.

And Ink, with his mischievous smile, came crouching down beside him, just a few inches away, pushing the Destroyer to hold his breath in anguish.

“Well then, Error, you're having a hard time today!”

The Destroyer replied with a black look, which wrung a laugh from the creator.

“Hey, don't look at me like that, I'm not even touching you!

\- Not yet...” the Glitch retorted bitterly, feeling the trap tightening. 

Ink laughed again before bending over gently, bringing their two faces together without initiating any contact:

"But no, look! I'll behave myself!

\- You're killing me, get out of here! 

\- That's not very nice. Come on Ruru, smile a little!

\- I'll smile at your dust running over my hands!”

The painter pouted, puffing up his cheeks to show that he was sulking, and Error grunted again, twisting himself free again. It was without relying on Ink who came and grabbed the bones to hold them in place, see who didn't hesitate to press on them without taking into account the hiccups of pain of his opposite.

“E-Bastard! the glitch gasped.

\- Mm... ? Does it hurt?

\- Of course it hurts? What? Besides being emotionless, you're emotionless?”

The words seemed to whip the air, hit Ink in the face, and time turned suddenly in slow motion, to the point of almost stopping, to freeze in this oppressive atmosphere.

Error tightened, crossed by a cold sweat. He hated it. He hated seeing Ink lose his pupils and his smile.

It was always a sign of trouble.

“... Well... (sighs) you're releasing me... ?” tried the Destroyer anyway, preparing to retaliate even if his position didn't allow it.

His bad premonition was confirmed to his greatest misfortune, when the cold laughter of his opposite began to resound. Trying to put on a good face, Error could only swallow Ink's hoarse voice: 

“You're right... I don't feel anything. I feel nothing at all.”

He pressed more frankly on the bones, making Error scream this time. Error who bite his tongue hard, with the resolution not to be more pathetic than he already was. But already Ink was at it again, having fun rubbing his nose in the wound - in the literal sense of the word – 

“S-Stop!” Error shouted, forcing himself to appear authoritative despite the derailment in his voice.

And this little twitch seemed to amuse the painter, whose smile widened a little more:

“Are you begging me? he laughed.

\- I command you-Ah!”

Ink had once again stirred one of the bones, reveling in the crackling sound he initiated. At least... was he really enjoying it?

Ink shook his skull. He didn't like to dwell on his feelings. He didn't like to question the veracity of his feelings.

**[And he hated it when he was reminded of his condition.]**

Error froze. Not because of the pain, but... 

“Ink... are you crying?”

The Creator petrified, as bewildered as his opponent. What's that? Crying?

Confused, the painter came to put a hand on his cheek, felt in amazement the salty drops brushing against his knuckles.

“... I... I... I... I... crying?”

He hadn't taken any vials. Let alone the blue one, which is a source of sadness. Both opponents knew this as well as he did, so why?

**[Confusion]**

Ink recovered abruptly, livid. 

**[He didn't understand.]**

He's backing off. 

**[He didn't understand at all.]**

**[And neither does Error]**

The Destroyer watched as terror gradually took hold of its opposite, without being able to react. What could he have done anyway?

Ink turned around, his magic failing to derail, and hastily created a portal into which he rushed.

As soon as he was gone, his bones vanished and Error was able to breathe a sigh of relief despite the ever-present pain.

But the incomprehension persisted, and as he struggled to get up, he looked worriedly at the place where his rival had disappeared.

**[ Probably should have kept his mouth shut ]**

He grunted, slapped his cheeks to regain his composure. Damn, he couldn't have hurt Ink's feelings, could he? The painter felt nothing! Wasn't supposed to feel anything!

Error reappeared for the umpteenth time. He needed to go home and heal himself, otherwise the blood loss would cause him to faint.

But an unpleasant remorse lingered in him…

*** ***

His gaze wandered for a moment on the sky above him, this immensity that amazed and gave him shivers, before he lowered his eyes to observe the flowers echoing at his feet.

Ink did not like to think. All his reflections led him to conclusions he didn't like, and he thanked his memory for quickly erasing his unpleasant thoughts. Thoughts such as his role as Creator, his purpose, his life in general.

His life didn't make much sense. His whole being was an absolute mystery. He didn't want to dwell on it. He preferred to think about something else, to enjoy his existence from day to day without worrying about the rest, the future and the consequences.

Thinking was just a burden to him.

Like right now.

He looked up, trying to concentrate on the beauty of the stars. But of course, his thoughts had to come back to the subject he hated: how could he love the stars, he who had no feelings? Was his love real, or was he just covering his own face?

How can we be sure of ourselves when we don't understand ourselves, when our essence has no meaning?

And Ink felt this unpleasant feeling once again running through his body, without him understanding its origin.

Yet he had taken his yellow vial on purpose, this vial of joy. But it was as if it didn't work, didn't work anymore.

**[ And Ink didn't understand ]**

He blew. It was all because of Error. He was the one who kept reminding him that he had no feelings, that he was just an empty shell.

But Ink preferred to be empty, completely empty, rather than a feverish little creature.

He laughed, remembering the fear he had caused his rival only by trying to touch him. Error was trying to be a ruthless killer, but deep down he remained like the other monsters: too vulnerable because of his soul.

The painter had a wide mischievous smile, an idea germinating in his mind.

Error liked to play with him, and Ink did not hesitate to return the favor.

Their next encounter was going to be explosive.

*** ***

Error narrowly dodged a blast, before teleporting behind his enemy to try to grab him and his sons. But Ink proved to be even faster than usual and escaped from the sons without any harm while having fun taunting the Destroyer.

A Destroyer who felt his patience was running out.

Nothing was worse than feeling that something was going on, without being able to define what. And clearly, Ink had prepared something. Error knew it, and his mistrust and apprehension were growing by the minute.

Damn it... That stupid painter was unpredictable. He hated it! 

Plunged in his reflection, Error was surprised to feel a weight on his ankle, before realizing with horror that he had taken paint, and that his rival had turned it into a ball and chain. A ball so heavy that Error was unable to lift his leg. Unable to dodge the bones that were thrown in his direction. All he could do was to create a shield of bone that failed to shatter on impact.

He smiled, decided to move the moment the ball disappeared...

But Ink was sharper. 

Error widened his eyes, stunned by the chains that immobilized him on all sides, and a squeak escaped him when he found his legs and arms a few inches above the ground, his body completely at Ink's mercy.

“INK!” he shouted in rage, his apprehension accompanying his growing panic.

The painter sketched a smile and approached him, too close, too close. But always taking care not to touch him. It would be less fun if Error started to bug!

“So Ruru, you're really out of shape right now! Letting yourself get caught so easily... 

\- You're seriously starting to get me drunk! Stop fucking with me! 

\- Impossible, it's too much fun!”

Ink emitted a crystalline laugh, far too pure to seem honest. It had to be said that Error was not objective: he had too many preconceptions about his Contrary to believe it was devoid of vices.

And the painter, as if to assert his thoughts, came to bring their faces together as he liked to do so well, with a sly smile on his teeth.

“Tell me, Ruru, is your fear of touch only for your body, or is your soul also concerned?”

The Destroyer froze:

“... eh?

\- I'm asking you if you bug when your soul is touched.”

Error became livid. This was the trigger that pushed him to struggle more violently, even if it meant risking his bones to come apart.

"Do I take that as a yes? "Ink asked, laughing.

And slyly, one of his hands had come close to the torso of his opposite:

“Shall we try Ruru?”

Error held his breath by reflex, stopping moving sharply to cast a frightened look at the torturing hand.

Ink licked his teeth, grabbed delicately - from the tips of his knuckles - the t-shirt of his opponent, which he lifted with extreme slowness, without ever putting the slightest pressure on Error's body. He had learned, over time, to manage his proximity to the Destructor, to intimidate him without making him bug. And how exhilarating it was to see him panic like that, the great Error! 

Ink finished lifting the garment, revealing the black bones of his opposite. Bones marked by their many fights, covered with scars that the painter found himself detailing and admiring. This only made his rival more beautiful in his eyes. Error already had such charisma... these marks amplified his rough and wild side.

The Creator swallowed, assaulted with a hot flush, and continued his observation up to Error's chest, before stopping on the soul that he saw palpitating more and more quickly, surely due to the increasing panic of its owner. 

This made him smile more and, with measured slowness, he came to reach out his hand towards the little inverted heart, that little heart that intrigued him so much, he who was dispossessed of it. 

“STOP!”

Error's scream barely made him react, so much so that he was caught up in the vision of this soul crackling with magic, this soul that was just waiting to be touched, cajoled - at least from the painter's point of view.

And finally, his index finger brushed against this poor heart, giving it a long, languid caress.

Error's reaction was immediate: he buckled violently, his dying scream in his throat as a powerful shiver ran through him, a shiver he had never had before. His body was as if plunged into a molten lake, and he had all the trouble in the world to keep his mind clear, not to detach himself from reality.

It was a miracle he didn't crash. The situation was just right.

Ink reaped the rewards of such a rare and exciting spectacle. Making the Destroyer so vulnerable wasn't something everyone could do, and he felt proud to have achieved such a feat.

“Own, Ruru... you are so adorable ~” Ink purred as he took his soul in the palm of his hand, snatching a frightened hiccup from its opposite.

Error glitched for half a second, his body trembling, his eyes starting to fill with tears as he tried to free himself, but with a poor spirit.

Ink, still as playful as ever, came to pull the soul out of its lair, exposing it to the open air to observe it more attentively, bringing it closer to his face to scrutinize it with a certain envy.

“What do you feel?" he asked the Destroyer, without taking his eyes off the soul. “Is it pain? Pleasure?”

He palpated the throbbing limb which began to emit a gentle heat, making Error squeal, who was already on the verge of cracking, the erratic breath.

"So Error? You haven't lost your tongue, have you?”

The painter felt himself becoming feverish, enjoying the view more than he should. The lack of response only made the situation more exciting, and soon the artist wanted more, his curiosity pushed to the limit.

Without warning, he bit into the trembling soul, wondering at the mellow sensation and the slightly sweet taste. But what really caught his attention was Error's scream and his violent arching.

Ink didn't have time to react when his Contrast's pelvis hit his own. He opened his eyes wide, released the panic-stricken soul, to utter a groan that he never thought he was capable of. His voice went off the rails in high pitches like Error's, and he even seemed to see stars for a moment.

The contacts he knew, but not that kind of contact. And by God, it was good, delicious! He wanted more, much more! To see how far he could go, what wonderful noises he could still get from his rival.

The completely foggy mind, he forgot where and with whom he was, instinctively came to stick against the glitch, coming back to seize the soul, to come and lick it greedily, to follow the bite mark and savour the strange liquid that resulted from it.

The sudden sizzling stopped him, however. Confused, he did not understand at first why the soul no longer pulsed, as if it had been frozen in time. But a glance at Error made him realize that his target had simply bugged.

Ink received like a cold shower. Argh, he had clearly crossed the line on this one.

Both amused and embarrassed, the painter moved aside slightly after putting the soul back in its place. What a pity, he was just starting to enjoy himself. He had a poor sigh and made Error's ties disappear, to receive him in his arms. Anyway, given the violence of the bug, the Destroyer was not about to come back to him.

Understanding that there would be nothing left to get out of it today, Ink went to the ground and created a portal to the void. He hurried in to put his rival on the blue footstool and then came out just as quickly so he wouldn't linger too long in the large white space. He didn't have the slightest desire to have a panic attack in his turn!

Once out of the void and after closing the gate, Ink stretched out. Now his Contrary would have wanted revenge! But he wouldn't, after all Ink hadn't 'completely' played with his phobia on purpose.

At the same time satisfied and frustrated, the Creator decided to take his turn from the Aus, not without being eager to meet Error again for one of their famous fight.

*** ***

Well, maybe he shouldn't have been so optimistic. It was true that he should have thought more about the consequences of his actions, but what do you want? Ink was an upside down skeleton who lived from day to day, even if it meant having to deal violently with his mistakes. In this case, the mistake in question was none other than Error. And the consequence? Oh, nothing incredible. Only Ink, who found himself hanging upside down, immobilized by familiar bluish threads that - in addition to blocking his body - blocked his magic. 

A beautiful morning, then.

“Hey Ruru!” he greeted in spite of everything, not having lost an ounce of his smile.

But Error wasn't in the mood to laugh, let alone engage in their fabulous verbal jousting that they loved each other so much.

The Destroyer just seemed to be in an abominable rage, his teeth and fists clenched as his eyes crackled with such bitterness and shame.

He had not at all digested their previous interview.

“... Um... (clears throat) Ruru, will you set me free?”

On the contrary, the wires tightened violently, making him wince for half a second before he regained his mischievous air:

“You're too vindictive, Error! Do you want me to call Dream to help you decompress?”

You'd think the Creator loved to play with fire, especially when it came to his lifelong rival. But this was a terrible time to play the smartest game, and Ink seemed to realize this when he saw a portal opening right below him: 

“Uh... Error? Please don't do anything stupid, I'm sorry for the last time!”

But the Destroyer didn't listen to him, and Ink felt an incomprehensible panic take hold of him.

“Error, that's enough now!”

His sentence was cut off as soon as he began his fall, and even when the wires released him, he had no time to dodge the gate which he passed through against his will.

He landed awkwardly on a flat surface and growled at his opponent ... before he froze in one piece.

**[ The Void ]**

**[Empty. White.]**

“Error !”

He turned around, with his throat tied, only to fall face down into the void. The gate had closed, trapping him here.

“ERROR, SHIT!” he cried, remembering with horror that his rival had stolen Broomie from him minutes before.

And his scream echoed across the large space around him, like a mockery of him, a sarcasm that clearly told him, 'You should have kept a low profile'.

His body became clammy and it was only a reflex to close his eyes, to ignore the white around him.

“It's all right, it's all right, it's all right, it's all right ...” he whispered, trying to keep his composure.

But no sooner had he finished his sentence than the morbid silence hit him hard. This made him swallow and he hastened to whisper louder, while cowering on himself:

“Everything's all right … Everything's all right ... !”

Error knew his phobia. He just wanted revenge but would only lock him up for a few minutes, no more. For unlike him, Error was on the side of a soul, had feelings, and could therefore show mercy and compassion.

“It's all right...”

He wasn't gonna leave it there.

“It's all right!”

What was taking him so long?

“Error... ?”

The silence, even more striking than last time.

“Ah... Ahah...”

A nervous laugh escaped him. He grabbed his head, his hands shaking violently. Not even a minute had passed, but it seemed as if he had spent an eternity in this hellhole. And his anguish was only getting worse, despite his desperate attempts to think about something else.

A sob escaped him.

Was he in the void? Was he really in the void? No, he couldn't have been. Impossible, impossible, impossible... !

He opened his eyes. Fell once again on this landscape untouched by anything.

**[ He breakdown ]**

“His body, frozen by terror, allowed him no movement, except for his legs, which abruptly slipped away as the pressure made them weak. He collapsed on the ground too pure, too clean, to roll into a ball and push his phalanges a little more into his skull, scratching, screaming louder and louder, eyes wide open with horror, his pupils changing furiously shapes and colors at a speed far too hallucinating to be normal.”

His howling came from the depths of his being, devastated everything in his path, collided with his shattered mind, his unstable body won over by the spasms.

White. Empty. White. Empty. WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS WHITE EMPTINESS 

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!”

He didn't even pick up the noise above him or the sudden pressure on his collar. He was only able to be dazzled, tormented by the sudden change of scenery, before he realized that he had been violently shot, only to collapse the next moment ... in the grass. A grass moistened by a recent rain, but still warm thanks to the powerful rays of the sun that shone in this new AU.

Ink blinked his eyes, his cry ceasing sharply, his gaze on the blue sky tinged with clouds.

What had just happened?

He didn't dare move immediately, his body still trembling, his breath erratic. His vision of time had been shaken, so that he did not know how long he had been like that. But when his feverish body decided to calm down, when his mind gradually quieted down, he finally decided to turn his head, regaining his senses and feeling a familiar magic at his side.

His gaze fell on Error's back.

Although he was surprised, Ink said nothing, simply not understanding why the Destroyer was sitting not far from him, watching a lake that stretched before them. His rival didn't seem to notice his 'awakening,' so the Creator silently stood up and wondered what to do next. Oh, he did not intend to take revenge on his Opposite, it would only lead them into a vicious circle. And then Error had, it seems, taken him out of the void.

“Ruru... ?”

Ink opened his eyes wide, amazed that his own voice was so weak. His previous screams seemed to have done more damage than he thought.

The Destroyer jumped slightly at the call, before taking a brief glance at the painter and then returning to contemplating the lake without a word. Not knowing how to interpret this reaction, Ink came gently to sit beside his Contrary, to look at the landscape in turn:

“... Why did you get me out of there?” asked the painter.

A new silence, if not a growl from the black-boned skeleton. Obviously he didn't want to answer, and Ink understood why. Error didn't like to show pity or kindness, it shattered his image of the emotionless Destroyer. 

The Creator didn't insist, cooled down by his previous terror. In other words, he didn't want to look for Error anymore for the moment, he preferred to savor the colorful nature, the chirping of the birds and the distant noise of the river. Nothing to do with the void.

Error's glitchy voice suddenly rose:

“The next time you play with my body, I'll condemn you to the void forever.”

Ink was covered with a cold sweat, suddenly terrified, not having already digested a few minutes there ... He nevertheless found an amused smile again:

“Understood, chief. I'll let you touch me like a big boy!”

The Destroyer shot him in the eye:

“I'm going to kill you.

\- I love you too! 

\- I mean it!

\- But so do I.”

Error grumbled, crossing his arms and taking a sulky face, which snatched a sweet laugh from the artist. 

Calm returned naturally, much softer, as if to wrap them in a cocoon of softness, to show them that everything was fine now, that there was no reason to fight for the moment. And the two skeletons took advantage of this, they who spent their time fighting... 

Finally, finding his usual joie de vivre, Ink wanted to start a conversation with his Contrary and turned to him... to cling to the melancholy gaze of his comrade. A look that surprised him strongly.

Surprised and curious, the painter's pupils became two question marks as he leaned his head to the side:

“Error, what are you thinking about?”

The Glitch growled, out of his reflections, and took a quick look at his rival before returning to the lake. 

“Nothing very important. I just remember a universe... My universe. It's just straps, but I know I belonged to a world once.”

Caught unawares, Ink was surprised that his lifelong enemy confided in him like this. It was such a rare moment of calm between them... 

He lowered his eyes, his smile gone, in prey himself to reflection, before he came to answer:

“... I'm not as sure as you are. My memories are fading, crumbling. I don't know if I was anyone before I woke up in the void. I don't know if I possessed a world, a soul ...”

He put his hand where his soul should have been:

“...did I have it before? Where was I born this way, devoid of feelings .... Like a vulgar doll, a puppet that you can manipulate as you please ...?”

Error tightened, teeth clenched. So, the joyful painter had such thoughts, considered himself as an empty shell? It should have made him happy to see him so sad, but instead he felt terribly ill.

In the end he didn't like his rival to be sad... And he noticed Ink's blue pupils. This blue he hated, because it was a sign of immense sadness. 

He hesitated, not knowing what to say, and finally embarrassment took precedence over everything else as he lowered his eyes. He breathed in, took his courage in both hands, and slowly, timidly, he ended up sliding his phalanges against Ink's, half grazing them, without doing too much so as not to bug, but this action was already a huge thing for him.

The Creator widened his eyes, looked up at him sharply, not seeming to believe what had just happened. Seeing his comrade’s face turned blue, he held back any mocking or sarcastic comments, not wanting to start an argument. But a broad, emotional smile appeared on his own blushing face.

*** ***

Some time had passed, the daily routine did not change, the permanent war went on as it has for centuries now. Mockery, verbal jousting, attacks, abandonment. Ink's laughter, Error's grunts. The looks so long, so heavy with meaning, in which their real emotions towards each other passed. His emotions that they each tried hard to hide. 

To conceal them from the others already, from the inhabitants of the Aus who would not understand their special bond. Then to hide them from each other. Ink couldn't admit to Error the curiosity and desire he had for him. Error could not confess to Ink the tenderness and remorse he had in return.

But above all, to conceal from themselves. In spite of his smiles and innuendoes, the Painter refused to assume this strong desire, this need to touch the other. In spite of his gentler attacks, his calmer words, the Destroyer did not accept that he wanted to take care of his rival.

They wanted the other one. Not to fight each other, not even to have sex. At least, not just that. They wanted to be together, to be close. To have a connection, something. An exchange of looks, words, complicity, intimacy. A sigh, a smile, a laugh. To be together, for better or for worse. They didn't necessarily understand each other, they didn't need to. 

They just wanted each other. Literally. 

It's that strong desire that made Ink come to see the Destroyer more and more often. 

To open a portal to the void, to call out to his rival, to push him to join him in an AU to talk, to forget their previous fight.

And OuterTale was the perfect place for that. Their favorite AU, both of them. A quiet world, with a soft glow, overshadowed by a starry sky so beautiful, so big, that even Error couldn't convince himself to destroy it.

Error, who was delicately sewing that day, before being interrupted by the Creator who came out of nowhere, overexcited and noisy:

“Ruru, hel- !”

He stood still when he saw the Destroyer, and then pouted softly in front of the big red mount worn by his rival:

“Those glasses look good on you.”

The Glitch looked sulky and annoyed, looking away embarrassingly as he resumed his sewing:

“Shut up, don't make fun.”

The Creator fell down beside him laughing:

“I'm not laughing! You're really cute with it!”

Error almost choked, glanced at the painter blackly and grunted, but that made him even more adorable in Ink's eyes.

The Destroyer seemed to grasp that he had no credibility at all and frowning, his cheeks swollen.

Ink shivered without understanding why. The mere sight of his embarrassed rival was enough to titillate him, and as Error continued his sewing, the painter was overcome with a burst of inspiration.

He drew out a notebook and pencil and began to scribble, while he regularly glanced at his Contrary, who seemed to notice nothing.

The minutes, then the hours, passed slowly, in this almost surreal atmosphere where only the sound of the pencil and the hands could be heard, while calm had elected master of the place.

Error was the first to complete his work. He contemplated, not without a certain pride, the final result of this hard work: an adorable little doll, with the effigy of a skeleton of some kind, very soft to the touch.

Then he finally noticed Ink's strange silence and decided to turn his attention back to him, to be surprised to see him draw with a seriousness that the painter rarely showed.

Error was like a fizz in the stomach as he contemplated, without hiding from it, his comrade at his side. The bluish light of the flowers echoing nearby illuminated Ink's face with a soft color, highlighting his slight frowning of the arches, and his habit of sticking out his tongue when he was concentrated. A multicolored tongue whose tip could only be seen, but which nevertheless managed to hypnotize Error, who came to wonder what sensation this limb could give.

Surprised by this thought, the cheekbones of the Glitch took on a pretty lemon hue and he used violence to look away, lest the artist should notice anything. Fortunately, Ink was too caught up in his work to pay attention to what was around him. 

Error didn't understand what was happening to him. He only wanted to destroy his rival, why had his feelings changed? Why did his thoughts, his desire to kill, gradually change into a desire to be with Ink, always, every day, whether it was to fight or just to sit around like that, without saying anything?

The Creator had been haunting him for a long time, but he never thought it would get this far. Haunted by his voice, his smile, his laughter. Haunted by his expressive pupils, his outspokenness that made him want to snap. Haunted by his aura, his magic, that urge... No. This need to be close, to be at his side.

“Ink.”

The person questioned blinked his eyes, raised his head in astonishment, and pulled out his creative fever. Yet he ignored Error and simply looked at him, questioning him about this call.

The Destroyer planted his pupils in his own:

“Why are you hanging out with me?”

He just couldn't believe that Ink felt the same way he did, that he had developed some... some kind of 'affection' for him. And the Creator, caught unawares, stood mute for a moment, his pupils turning into question marks and then returning to a round golden shape, showing his sudden joy, as if the question amused and excited him. After all, Ink loved to talk, especially when answering someone:

“I love being with you because I am never bored!” he exclaimed with a broad smile.

He liked surprises, entertainment, and hated the monotony of routine. And Error had always had this gift, this ability to surprise him every time they met, even if they all seemed similar at first.

“Our fights, our discussions, our silences... I love it so much, I end up thinking about it all the time! I think about it in the morning, in the evening, when I see you but also when I don't see you! Isn't it a strange feeling? But it's so intoxicating!”

He didn't understand that feeling, didn't try to understand it. He liked being with Error, wasn't that enough? And it seemed obvious to him that the feeling was mutual, otherwise the Destroyer wouldn't spend so much time with him.

Ink took a more malicious look, moved slightly closer to his Contrary:

“Why such a question Ruru?”

The Glitch moved backwards, uncomfortable in front of those eyes that seemed to devour him with their gaze. He swallowed but did not break eye contact:

“... I don't understand your thoughts, your purpose. That's all I know. We're enemies, we're not supposed to ... hang out together. 

\- Enemies? Do we look like enemies to you? That's a strong word... don't you think? More like rivals, I'd say. Opposite. But not enemy.”

If Error was stunned by his words, Ink ignored them and continued:

“I'd even come to say we're fusional. We complement each other, don't you think? We have our role, a purpose. We watch each other, we set limits for each other.”

The Artist approached again, the arcades gathered:

“Can you understand that? Can you understand how much I care about us, about our bond, no matter what you call it? Our faults as well as our qualities, I love them. We are not afraid of the same things. You're better than what you show, and I'm better than what you show, and I'm the opposite.”

Their faces found themselves very close, very close, to the point that Error shuddered as their breaths mingled delicately.

“... This is the very notion of balance.” Ink blew slowly, his pupils glided gently into his rival's mouth, the mouth he would refrain from devouring at any moment.

It didn't take long for the Destroyer to catch his gaze, and that made him stand up suddenly, his face turned blue and he felt a certain uneasiness.

“You're always talking nonsense! he thought, his eyes fleeing. “Go back to your stupid drawing instead of talking about such things!

\- Heeeeey! But you asked for it!” the Creator pouting and cheek blowing, before smiling again. “Do you really think my drawing is stupid?”

He turned his notebook over, shutting Error's mouth and Error's eyes wide open, stunned by what he saw.

Ink had made a portrait of himself. A portrait of him sewing, a few minutes before. A portrait ... sublime. And the word was still so weak to express what the Glop felt. Was it really him in the drawing? He recognized himself without recognizing himself. The skeleton scribbled was similar to him, but at the same time so beautiful. Did he really look like that? He doubted it, he had already seen his reflection.

“W-what's that?

\- It's you, Ruru. That's exactly how I see you. Don't you like it?”

Ink had tilted his head to the side, with this terribly adorable pout, making Error shudder, and he had no choice but to clean his glasses to give himself some composure. How can you not like this drawing? It was so rare to see Ink's works, but they were always so beautiful ...

“... I don't hate...” grumbled the Destroyer.

The Artist smiled again, overjoyed at this answer. In his eyes, Error was the perfect model. A model that didn't need to be altered.

*** ***

Error did not understand Ink and did not seek to understand him. But if he had once hated him without trying to love him, times seemed to have changed his way of thinking.

He wanted to destroy the AUs, but he hadn't touched them since he spent his days with the Creator. No doubt this had been Ink's plan all along, although he was unable to foresee things over a long period of time.

They would find themselves every day, bickering, avoiding embarrassing topics such as their feelings, just ignoring their adversity and differences only to enjoy the quiet they hadn't experienced for many years.

And often, even though Error tried to ignore it, Ink had this annoying habit of being too comfortable. Even though he didn't initiate any contact, he seemed to be constantly looking for it, something that wasn't to Glitch's taste.

Luckily, unlike before, Ink didn't seem to want to hurt him anymore, so the Destroyer didn't distrust him very much.

Unless this lack of mistrust was due to the trust that Error was slowly developing for his rival? 

No, it couldn't be. The Glitch didn't trust anyone, it was well known!

And yet he let Ink get closer and closer to him, always a little closer, to the point that one evening - tonight - they were only a few millimeters away from each other, sitting in the flower field of the OuterTale, their phalanges almost touching.

“... Did you go on with your little doll?” Ink asked absent-mindedly, looking at one of the many plants that surrounded them.

Error shrugged, turning blue in spite of himself:

“No, I've started another one instead...”

The painter turned to him, suddenly very curious:

“Ohhhh great! Can I see?”

The Glitch frown: 

“Mm... No.

\- What? Why not? Ruru, please!

\- No, I said! You've got to be kidding me again!”

The Creator puffed up the cheeks:

“But no, I promise! Believe it or not, believe it or not, if I'm lying I'll move to Underfell!”

Error looked up, unconvinced, but on the one hand he wanted to show his work to Ink, only to see his reaction.

He grunted, his cheeks a little more blue:

“Well... okay...”

He made his new doll appear and immediately handed it to the Creator without a glance.

Surprised but very happy, Ink quickly retrieved the little doll to examine it .... And his pupils turned into stars, a sign of his sudden wonder:

“But... It's me! It's me! Ruru, you made me into a doll?”

The other one pouting, his gaze fleeing, so uncomfortable was he with revealing himself in this way. Did he have to answer? The doll had the appearance of a skeleton with white bones and minnow pupils, with a black spot on one of the cheeks and a light brown scarf. So the answer was obvious, wasn't it? Of course he had made a doll of Ink! 

“Don't make me answer, I'm humiliated enough... he grumbled.

\- Owwwn, Ruru! That's so mooooooooooooooooo!!!”

The painter hugged the doll and laughed, radiating a happiness that surprised Error and intensified his blueing. It had to be said that Ink was horribly adorable when he reacted that way, like a child on Christmas Day ... 

The Glitch rubbed his neck while staring at the ground, feeling the beating of his soul become a little stronger as his voice became even more timid:

“... You can keep it, if you want ... 

\- Oh no, you can't!”

The Destroyer was startled, and looked at his Contrary with incomprehension:

“No?” he repeated, somewhat vexed by such an answer. 

But he hiccuped, and stepped back when Ink suddenly brought his face close to his own, looking terribly serious:

“I'd rather have a doll that represents you! 

\- Wh- Huh?! 

\- You keep that doll, and make me another one that looks like you!”

The Creator regained his huge smile:

“So we'll always feel like we're with each other, even when we're apart!”

Error sizzled for a moment, brushing against the ultimate bug before regaining his composure, trying to control his uncontrollable breathing: 

“B-But are you stupid or what? What's the point? And then... Considering how sticky you are, I don't even have a second to myself! We're already together all the time!”

And he didn't mind, far from it. Glitch, to his great misfortune, had finally gotten used to the omnipresence of his rival in his life. So much so that he came to wonder if Ink, in many ways, wasn't his life... 

Ink who had a new laugh at the remark of his comrade:

“It's true... (laughs) We're so much together... But I don't know, I keep getting this urge to have more...”

Error swallows:

“... More?”

He looked up at Ink, he flinched when his eyes met his own. Damn it... Everything seemed to be bubbling inside him, and he had no idea it was the same for the painter. The painter had incredible self-control to keep his hands in place, but damn it... seeing Error so touching, feverish, desirable... it made him want to bite into something. Biting his black bones that he couldn't take his eyes off, even that tongue he could feel in the half-open mouth of Glitch.

Error trembled, both terrified and begging. He hated himself for his own desire, and hated Ink for making him feel that way. He hated the hold his rival had on him, but most of all he hated the awful truth that hit him without warning: he couldn't wait for someone to finally touch his body, his bones, his teeth.

He hesitated for a long time, before looking the Creator in the eyes to whisper, begging teeth: 

“Kiss me.”

Ink rushed, glued his mouth burning with desire against that of his Opposite, with this terrible desire to devour him, to make him his whole self. The confusion of his emotions only intensified as he felt his whole body tremble at the wet sounds of their kiss.

A kiss, what was it really, if not an oath, a promise, a silent confession of their love for so long? The meeting of their mouths was the most perfect, the most divine sensation that was given to them. A deep, immaterial sensation, that of their beings becoming one.

Ink felt gently sinking in front of this first wet contact that made them both lose their heads. Finally, in a sigh, a grunt filled with regret, he moved away from the scene out of breathlessness, but also out of concern for the Destroyer he thought he felt glitched against him. 

But it wasn't. Error was conscious. Feverish, out of breath, but conscious. Conscious that he wanted more. That they wanted more. They watched each other in a silence, an atmosphere saturated with their boiling desire, trembling from that first kiss. 

With a simple glance Ink understood his comrade's envy. He had a tender smile, came to place his teeth against his cheekbone, then came down and kissed his neck for a long time. If Error let him do so, trembling on all sides so much the envy took him by the throat ... he suddenly froze, a terrible observation that silenced his deep desire. 

**[ Did Ink really want to kiss him? ]**

The Creator noticed his trouble, stopped kissing him to straighten up and question him with his eyes, and although his pout was exceedingly cute, it did not prevent the Destroyer from becoming a little paler. 

**[ What exactly was Ink looking for? ]**

The questions, always the same questions. 

**[ How did Ink feel exactly? ]**

Because deep down, it didn't matter how much Error had wanted to ignore this detail, how much he had left it in a corner of his mind during the last decades... No matter how he felt, no matter how attached he was to Ink. It didn't matter the beautiful words, the speech the painter had given him. 

**[ Ink had no emotion of his own ]**

**[ Beastly empty shell remained ]**

Until then, this detail had never really bothered the Glitch. But now that their relationship had taken a new turn, that things were going far beyond what he thought... 

**[ Error realized his budding feelings would never be reciprocated. ]**

“Ruru ... ?”

Ink had tilted his head, worried and confused by his partner's frozen attitude. His bewilderment was even greater when he was pushed back, fell backwards and landed on his coccyx while Error got up in a hurry, his fists clenched and his gaze faded away again.

“Forget it.” commanded the Destroyer weakly, causing the painter to pucker his arches.

Ink stood up in turn, puzzled and somewhat annoyed by the turn he hadn't considered: 

“What do you mean, 'forget it'? We were there! You weren't even bugging! Why were you...

\- I'm not just a stupid experiment! Don't satisfy your unhealthy curiosity with me!”

The cry of Error startled the Creator, before he was further tormented and anger began to take hold of him, his reddish pupils testifying to his change of mood:

“It has nothing to do with curiosity! We were just... fine! I thought you wanted to keep going too! Don't lie to me, you clearly wanted to!

\- Yeah, before I remembered you were incapable of feeling!”

The burst of voice echoed through the now icy environment, whipped both Ink and Error, and both opened their eyes simultaneously, becoming aware of the words spoken.

If guilt was the first feeling of Glitch, it was soon replaced by shame and an awful desire to flee, to hide, to hide away from everything. A desire that he fulfilled in the moment, using his teleportation to return to the void, leaving a destitute Ink behind him, without suspecting for a moment the evil he had just committed.

After all, hadn't Ink been aware for a long time that he felt nothing? Or rather ... that he was supposed to feel nothing? Yes, he was devoid of emotion. But if that was the case, then how could he explain the pain so brutal that ran through his body and mind? How to explain the disappointment mixed with the bitter feeling of betrayal, the pungent taste on the palate that reminded him of his blue vial, the abysmal taste of distress and sadness when he hadn't drunk a drop of paint?

This incomprehension drove him mad. This nonsense, this lack of logic and explanation, inflated his chest with a deaf panic that made him want to cry, to scream, to pour out his anger on the whole world. A mad desire to strike, to destroy everything that fell into his hands.

But he didn't do anything about it, remained static, imperturbable. Only the blinking of his pupils was evidence of his confusion, his terror. Otherwise his body remained frozen, engulfed by a silence far too oppressive for anyone to bear it properly.

And finally... Ink teleported back.

*** ***

Error couldn't sleep, no matter how many times he turned in his footstool, changing his position over and over again, trying to think of something quiet to soothe himself and sink into the dream world. Sleep didn't come, Morpheus didn't welcome him in his arms, and neither Dream nor Nightmare was to blame for that.

He grunted, he sighed deeply, sat down to observe the emptiness in front of him, an emptiness that didn't make the slightest impression on him, but which still terrified Ink.

Shit ... he was thinking about the painter now, as he had been trying to forget him since their last meeting.

And he could feel the tears of exhaustion coming, his tears of bitterness that meant he was reaching his limit, that he was cracking. He closed his eyes for fear that those salty drops might escape him, tried as best he could to repress them, but the damage had already been done.

He took his face in his hands, clenching his teeth, piteously managing to contain his sobs. To tell the truth, the only thing that betrayed his silent crying was his body shaking with jolts.

He had attacked Ink without the slightest justification, and he should have been blind not to see that he had hurt his Contrary. Oh yes, he had distinctly perceived the painter's surprise and suffering. The suffering he had sought for so many years, the sadness he had wanted to provoke all this time...

But not this time. This time he didn't want to hurt anyone. He didn't want to destroy what he'd begun to build, but he had masterfully screwed up. Honoring his role, he had destroyed what could be destroyed.

People tended to feel sorry for those who were hurt, but they never felt pity for those who hurt them. Yet it was obvious that by making others suffer, one was damaging oneself. 

And Error had been deeply wounded by his own initiative.

He had never been able to get used to the habit of people coming too close, always too close, when they talked. Ink was one of those people, coming close, bending over, just to make sure Error was listening. But that had always scared away the Glitch, who was not helped with his damn phobia. The closer someone got, the more Error backed away, envious to run away. But while he was enraged at the insistence of most monsters, he had noticed that everything was quite different with Ink.

He had gotten used to Ink, had let him pierce his bubble, his living space, without really being aware of it.

Now that he had put an end to their affair, that he had distanced the painter, that he had found this oppressive solitude again, Error felt a weakness that was far too invasive, violent. 

It almost seemed to him that his soul had stopped beating, as if he needed Ink, and only Ink, to live.

He petrified.

**[That's exactly what it was.]**

He straightened his face ravaged by tears, his eyes widened by the titanic revelation. 

**[ He couldn't do without Ink ]**

**[He could never do it.]**

His magic crackled, as an affirmation to his thoughts, a relief that the Glitch was finally aware of the truth.

Error's gaze grew harder.

He had to find Ink. Immediately.

*** ***

For the first time Ink had experienced a sincere, crazy, extraordinary pleasure. The pleasure of discovering someone, of getting to know him, of revealing himself, and slowly, timidly attaching himself to this same being. This being who had shown him new facets of life, another way of looking at things. This being who had revealed to him that combat was not the only option, that conflict could be left behind.

But most of all... this being who had shown him another side of himself.

**[He could feel]**

**[Feeling without his vials]**

But how? How long has it been? Ink couldn't grasp, couldn't remember when things had changed, when his body and mind had started to function differently.

He had been thinking about it for hours, days. Cowering in the middle of the doodle sphere, walled in a silence with sharp teeth that bit his bones with unheard-of violence, he could barely breathe properly, each sigh being more painful than the last. 

He was thinking. He was doing that thing he hated so much. He was thinking, and God he hated thinking. It horrified him. All his thoughts, all his many ideas, collided painfully in his poor skull, making him so dizzy that he was forced to close his eyes as hard as he could, so that he wouldn't get dizzy and sink.

He was thinking. Thinking was a torment, a torture. How could anyone enjoy such an activity? He did not understand, and not understanding it only added to his worries, made him question again and made him think more.

**[ Fucking vicious circle ]**

He made a groan, a pathetic sob, and huddled more on himself.

Ink had never liked solitude, even though he didn't necessarily get attached to others. No one liked solitude, it left too much time to think. And damn it... damn it... ! ... Ink hated to think. Reflecting on a life that made less and less sense to him.

Carelessness was the only thing that kept him going, because it was so much easier to follow his impulses and then repent... The easiest way not to regret something, not to have nightmares about it, was to forget it. To just ... To stop thinking about it.

That's why Ink hated to think about it.

So why did he end up doing it?

To think about his existence, his purpose. To think confusedly, only to be reminded for the umpteenth time that he was just a lunatic, a useless, unlovable skeleton, incapable of loving and impossible to love. He was useless, his role as Creator was only a decoy, a façade, a poor role. He wasn't a precious person, far from it.

He was lonely. Well, sadly, it was only with two that one could break that loneliness.

A ringing made him suddenly startle. He wondered, his pupils becoming exclamation marks as he slowly straightened up so he could get his phone out. He rarely used it ... no, in fact he never used it. He didn't see the point.

He looked at the screen without the slightest hope of seeing the name Error on it. Simply because the Glitch didn't have a telephone and, under the circumstances, he wouldn't want to get in touch with him again ... 

And Ink was right, it was Dream calling him. 

“Yes... ?” he said piteously when he picked up the phone, exhausted from his mental battle.

Of course, the guardian of good emotions immediately noticed his confusion:

“Ink, are you okay... ?”

The Creator shrugged his shoulders before remembering that his friend couldn't see him, so he added a brief "Yes..." not at all credible. Before stretching. Did he just say that Dream was his friend? He'd always considered it that way, but... When was he really? Were his feelings for the guard the same as a friend's?

The protector of dreams didn't give him any more time to think about it:

“Hey, why don't you come by the house? How long has it been since we've spent time together? And then I could invite Blue! The Stars Sanses together again, wouldn't that be cool?”

“Cool”? Ink didn't know. He definitely didn't know. But after all, why refuse? It would get him out of the house, get him thinking about something else, take his mind off things... Yes, it would do him good, at least that's what he hoped:

“...Okay, see you tomorrow.”

But unfortunately, the next day was a very dull day for the Creator. A difficult awakening, an impression of being overwhelmed by a dark and heavy atmosphere, an impression that made his body heavy, that made him want to go back to his bed and not make the slightest effort. 

The sorrow seemed to have engulfed his whole being, pulling him into a melancholic lethargy, and it is probably this influx of negative emotions that came to alert Dream and pushed him to come and get Ink sooner than expected.

Ink didn't want anything, except to go back home to roll himself into a ball, even if it meant being assailed again by disastrous thoughts. The painter didn't like solitude, but he hated being in a place where he wasn't wanted even more.

Although the truth is that he had made up his mind all by himself. Of course they wanted him, but he had convinced himself of the opposite by brooding.

  
Sitting on Dream's couch, watching his host chatting with Blue, the Creator had this terrible feeling of being too much. Probably shouldn't have accepted the invitation... But even if he had said 'no', he knew that Dream could be terribly persuasive. 

The atmosphere was strange, a little embarrassing, mainly because of the painter's silence and his haggard gaze. Dream and Blue came to exchange a worried glance, not really knowing what to do to help their friend whom they had never seen like that.

Finally, it was the skeleton of Underswap who opened his mouth, having an idea of what he could say ... but he was interrupted by the door, which shattered in a crash that shook the whole house. 

Ahuris, Dream and Blue immediately got up on their feet, their magic being activated in the moment to protect them. Ink was the only one to remain seated, destabilized, far from being terrified since he had recognized without the slightest harm the aura of the newcomer. An aura that he knew on the tips of his phalanxes, which he had faced many times and whose dangerousness he knew how to recognize. 

And clearly, at that moment, Error was not a threat, quite the contrary. He was standing in the entrance hall, magic crackling and teeth clenched, but Ink knew how to read in his eyes all his distress, his feverishness. 

How could he beware of this being who appeared to him as tormented, as anxious as he was?

Their eyes had caught, a bubble seemed to have enveloped them without them being aware of it, cutting them off from everything around them, from Dream and Blue who had lowered their weapons with incomprehension.

Ink was the first to react, to get up and approach:

“Err...”

He hiccuped, upset by an implosion of confusion which was triggered by an event that was impossible for him: Error had thrown himself on him, had just grabbed him in his arms, with such a powerful eagerness that he made them fall backwards and spread out on the couch.

If Ink was stunned, unable to believe that the Glitch was touching him on its own, and this without bugging, he couldn't resist and came to snuggle up against him, ignoring the multitudes of questions that had just fallen on his mind, ignoring the incomprehension of seeing the Destroyer come back to him after their last meeting. He ignored all this to savor for a few moments the warmth and fragrance that emanated from the trembling body of his Contrary. He breathed in like a madman, burying his face in the hollow of his neck, and perceived the shudder that this triggered in Error. 

“R-Ruru...?” stammered the painter, raising a lost gaze to the Glitch.

He swallowed the questioned swallowed, came to hug himself more tightly against the torso of his comrade, wishing to hide himself from the glances of the two other individuals present in the room. 

Realizing the embarrassment of his rival, Ink took a quick look at Dream and offered him a very slight smile, his first since they had seen each other. The Dream keeper understood the message without any worries and nodded his head, allowing the painter to leave in view of the situation.

The Creator thanked him mentally, noting in a corner of his mind to be grateful to him later, and then teleported himself back to the doodle sphere, taking Error with him.

They fell in the middle of the AUS, the many sheets of paper that each represented a universe, and the potential risk that Error might attack the different worlds didn't even occur to Ink's mind, too concentrated on caressing the back of the Glitch.

“... Error .... Why did you come back? After what happened...”

The Destroyer uttered a grunt, ashamed to be so weak but unable to release the Creator:

“I don't know... I wanted to see you... I needed to see you...”

Ink was stunned, his mouth ajar and his eyes wide open. He went from surprise to surprise and couldn't decide if it was a good thing or not. He assumed it was? After all his Ruru had returned, his Ruru had not fully abandoned him!

And Error, for his part, was deeply reassured that Ink wasn't pushing him away. He had feared rejection after the way he had treated the painter. 

Deep inside themselves the voice of uncertainty had fallen silent, leaving them alone with their questions that were swirling around, but also with this peace, this inner certainty that finally calmed them, gave them confidence in each other but also in themselves.

“...Error... do you believe me if I tell you... that I think I feel something?”

Glitch straightened the skull, confused:

“Anything...? Emotions?

\- ...I... guess. I feel something strong... for you. Mostly for you.”

The Destructor blushed, and his gaze faded away again.

“Oh yeah... like... like last time, when you cried and didn't take your vials?

\- Yeah, that's it... I'm not sure I understand where it comes from but... I want so much to be against you, to never leave you... to own you, to be mine, to be mine alone... Those are 'normal' emotions?”

Error hesitated, before grumbling embarrassingly:

“What do I know? I don't know... There are no 'normal' emotions. There's no 'normal'. How do you want me to answer you properly in this case?”

Ink pouffed gently with laughter, his pupils taking back a soft golden color, sign of a certain amusement. He came delicately to caress the cheek of his rival:

“It's true... there is no 'normal'... so logically... I am abnormal, and so are you, and so are all the others, right?”

Error purring almost to the caress, came to stick his face more against the palm of his rival, with some discomfort however, while grunting gently :

“Yeah... pretty much...

\- So from a logical point of view... normality is being abnormal?

\- Damn it Ink, stop thinking, you're confusing me!”

The painter laughed more frankly and Error's uneasiness became more pronounced, as did the redness that appeared on his cheekbones. But at least he was happy to see the Creator so happy, for Ink was happy, wasn't he, since he now seemed capable of feeling? Even though this story of emotions remained strange and incomprehensible...

Their eyes had the misfortune to meet again and Ink's laughter stopped immediately. A long silence, during which everyone seemed to become aware of their closeness, a closeness similar in every way to the last time ... when they had kissed.

Error's soul missed a beat as Ink's face took on a soft rainbow hue.

The Glitch wanted to look away again, fearing that his Contrary might read on my face the signs of his envy, his desire, his pleasure. His eyes sparkling with latent excitement, his mouth trembling, his breathing short. So many clues that showed that Error wanted more, that their last kiss had been only an appetizer.

Finally, the painter came and timidly placed his forehead against his own, filled with hesitation:

“... Ruru ... could we go on ...? Last time... you cut us off at once...”

The Destroyer looked guilty as if he didn't want to:

“...Yeah, sorry... I panicked. I was confused, both about you and my fucking feelings...”

Ink had a faint smile:

“Everyone has the right to make a mistake, don't worry...

\- Right to make a mistake? Why does everyone say that, and who exactly gives them the right...? In this case ... only you can give me such a right. Because only you matter... only you... only you... that I don't want, that I don't want to destroy anymore.”

The Creator kissed him gently on the cheek:

“I agree to give you this right with pleasure... if you give me the same right in exchange, of course!

\- Pfff... a matter of equality, eh? Afraid I'll show you my superiority?

\- Own Ruru... you know who's superior to whom in our relationship!”

To affirm his claims, the painter came to steal a kiss, then a second one just as quickly, wrenching a yelp from the glitch which was suffocated by a third kiss. A third one, longer than the first two, which Ink took care to make last, intensifying it just as it should have, to make poor Error shudder and swallow his body, which was suddenly assailed by a hot flush.

There was nothing left but them, nothing but their burning, luminous love between their tightly packed bodies. Ink, with a skillful snap of his finger, made the house he had created for himself in the doodle sphere appear, before dragging his Contrary into it to make himself more comfortable for them.

They never reached the Creator's chamber. Only the living room, where they collapsed on the narrow sofa, forcing them to stay close together. Ink quickly got rid of his pants, did the same with his underwear, which he slid down more slowly, to make his lover languish and devour his gaze. 

Error hiccupped gently, destabilized, and was even more so when he perceived a slight deviation on the part of the painter, who pushed him to straighten up to grab his face in his hands and return to sprinkle his mouth with dozens of little kisses.

His soul accelerated when he felt Ink stretch, then gently pushed him back onto the cushions to stand above him. His bones glowed in the subdued glow of the candle on the coffee table, and the Glitch thought that he could have watched this spectacle all his life, standing there just admiring the body of his Contrary.

He finally shook his skull, regaining a minimum of capacity to have the strength to draw Ink against him, while gently opening his legs to welcome him. The Creator didn't hide his surprise, bending slightly in contact with his pelvis against his own. Breathing erratically, he came to smile and maliciously rubbed himself against the magical limb of Error that he felt forming between them.

The Glitch came to moan, distraught, before returning to put down his teeth in a kiss so tender that Ink almost lost consciousness. 

“... What the... Error... I want you so much...” the Creator let go with difficulty, his voice deep and heavy with desire. 

Error yelped, wiggled, and tried to get rid of the clothes that imprisoned and protected him. Ink would have enjoyed it if he hadn't been so impatient himself, and it was with trembling hands that he slipped his phalanxes over his companion's hips, then at the same time slipped the pants and underpants of his Contrary, freeing the magic-soaked limb he had felt against him for so many minutes.

The Destroyer squealed, his face blue, and hid his face in his hands, mad with envy but also with shame. Ink's smile returned, much more tender, and the painter decided to come and kiss his lover's collarbone, in the hope of relaxing him. 

Error bit his tongue as he felt his comrade do so. His body seemed to be boiling, as if a fire had started inside him. He groaned, crushed, oppressed by pleasure, overwhelmed by the multiple sensations.

“I-Ink... !” he murmured in a moan, stirring in spite of himself the violent desire of the Creator whose kisses became more voracious. And before the Glitch could understand, he uttered a cry due to a sudden bite in his vertebrae.

He widened his eyes, throwing his head back, his breath ran out as he only wanted to scream again. His eyes fell on Ink as he stood up. Ink who looked as confused as he did, who looked at him as if he was the most desirable thing in the world. 

Error felt a deep need rise within him. The need to hug the painter more, to become one with him, to merge, to mix their two beings. He wrapped his legs around him, and suffered like an electric shock when the member of his lover came to stumble against his intimacy. 

The Creator closed his eyes, clutching the cushions clumsily, as feverish as Error was.

Finally, Ink slowly reopened his eye sockets, gently came back to press his forehead against his opposite's, gazed into his own as if to ask a silent question. A question to which Error answered with a feverish nod.

The painter had a shy - but adorable - smile. He took a deep breath and then he started to push, slowly pushing, finally pressing harder and moaning when he felt his limb sink into his lover's narrow lair.

Error was breathless, came and grabbed Ink's shoulders in which he stuck his knuckles, trembling all over as he perceived the long penetration of this unknown thing in his body. His bones, his soul, wanted to struggle at first, but his spirit was much stronger and it was with a weakened self-control that he plunged his head into the neck of the Creator, envious to hide the tears that had come to his eyes. 

It was a delicious torment. He could feel Ink's slightest movement, his limb sliding deep inside him to withdraw slowly, before coming back to sink the next moment. For the umpteenth time, Ink came to capture his lips in a feverish, dizzying kiss that seemed to suck in all the cruel words that had been spoken over the past few years. A kiss that made Error lose his head, much more than his comings and goings that were already driving him crazy.

His lucidity was once again put to the test when Ink came to accelerate the rhythm, by instinct, coming to hit the bottom of his lover gently at first, then little by little more abruptly, in the wet and moist clacking of his pelvis against hers. And his caresses ... damn it, his caresses melted him. The Destroyer felt himself dying under this avalanche of passion and sweetness.

His body was on fire, it seemed to be burning everywhere. His whole being was no longer used to it, had never been used to such touch, such tenderness. A fire was consuming him, consuming every bone in his body, consuming his soul, his spirit, his reason. 

Ink was in no better condition. The convulsive movement driven by his instinct and desire excited him so strongly that he was making himself sick. The act had only recently begun, and already he felt on the verge of orgasm. The sensations coupled with the vision of a submissive Error did nothing to help him see more clearly, and slowly he perceived stars coming to veil his sight as he groaned, moaned, his voice mingling with the divine pleas of his Contrary. 

He was panting, his pupils changing more and more rapidly in shape, in colour, a sign of his ever-increasing confusion, of his thoughts becoming chaotic. He had only one idea in mind: to continue to make the Glitch shout, to continue to make him moan his name, to continue to make him blush and to provoke the arches of his body, while the narrowness of his intimacy tightened around his limb and made him himself want to make exclamations. 

He was not disappointed. Error yelped, eyes wide open, crossed by a violent shudder as his body bent and convulsed to a sudden blow, this final hammering that hit his prostate with force and made him see multiple colors, while a cry got stuck in his throat, that oxygen no longer seemed to reach him.

**[He had an orgasm]**

Ink shivered, amazed that such a show could inflate his desire again. But most of all ... damn it, he was so jealous and envious! Jealous that he too hadn't reached that point of no return, envious to know the sensation of deliverance!

He went back and forth with eagerness, surprising his Contrary, who came to glitch for a moment before panting, trying to stand upright and moaning: 

“I-Ink, waitAAAHH!”

He had thrown his head out screaming, his body arching more and more under the painter's ever faster and more powerful bumpers. No, the latter did not intend to wait, he did not see why he had to wait! 

Impatient, unable to think, he came back to bite into the neck of the Destroyer, tearing a new scream out of him, drowning him under the multiple sensations, under this effervescence of various emotions ... to finally hit his prostate once again, with ever more force, to the point that Ink released his neck to moan with him, that their bodies were stretched one against the other.

Error hiccupped, his gaze veiled by tears of confusion and ecstasy, clutched the Creator even harder as he felt he had reached his limits for the second time, but most of all ... he felt Ink's limb pulsating within him, before yelping when he perceived his intimacy being filled, when he understood that his lover had also reached the breaking point and was pouring into him.

Ink who didn't understand anything anymore. Prey to a violent electric discharge, his head empty of all thought but filled with an unbearable heat, he realized late that a black veil had fallen on his eyes, the veil of a semi-unconsciousness. His skull fell back against Error's shoulder, he did not move. He remained perfectly still, his difficult breathing being the only proof that he was still alive.

“...R-Ruru... ?” he almost whispered, so exhausted did he feel.

The person questioned observed the ceiling in silence, his gaze in the wave, the body still trembling from their act. And feeling that Ink was still deeply rooted in his intimacy didn't help him to regain his lucidity properly.

“...what...?” he grunted though, out of breath.

He felt Ink loosening up more against him, shivering at the touch of tender kisses against his neck.

“...I think I love you...” the painter said softly, and began to smile.

Error startled, and if he had had the strength, he would surely have recovered in a hurry. But he could only swallow a scream as his face took on a violent blue tint, his body flickered for half a second and accompanied the loss of his pupils.

“He finally replied, barely regaining his composure, fanning Ink's incomprehension as he tilted his head to the side.

\- Why did he do that?

\- But because it's not done!

\- ... Oh, I should have said 'I love you', not 'I think'?

\- That's not the fucking point!!!”

Error turned away from the skull, hiding his panicked and embarrassed expression behind one arm, while the other came to embrace Ink to hold him close:

“...you really are stupid, the artist... no tact...”

The Creator, a little lost, laughed and put a chaste kiss on his lover's cheekbone: 

“You're so cute when you're embarrassed! 

\- Shut up! 

\- I assure you it's true!

\- Shut up!

\- Ruru !

\- What?!

\- I love you.”

Error squealed, kept silent, cowering further, his soul getting carried away in spite of himself, and Ink was not ready to let go of him:

“I love you.”

Silence, for the Glitch clenched his teeth as he turned blue. 

“Ruru... politeness wants you to answer me!” sulked the painter as he gently stood up to look at him. 

The Destroyer hesitates, feverish, unable to respond to anything. He held his breath when he felt Ink take his hand, tear his arm from his face, exposing his fleeting gaze and his blue face. 

“...Error...Do you love me?”

The other swallows, short of breath ... to finally make a monster effort and slowly turn his gaze towards Ink, plant his trembling pupils in his own, and gently nod his head while whispering:

“Yes, I think I love you...”

A soft rainbow colour took possession of the Artist's cheeks, and although he did not notice it, it seemed as if a slow beat had just resounded from his rib cage ...

But he didn't have the head to worry about it because he suddenly outraged himself, swelling his cheeks:

“Hey! No 'I think' we said!”

This provoked a laugh in Error who came to mischievously pull his tongue, finding his bearings in the fact of laughing at him, and Ink naturally followed the movement by pretending to be offended ... before simply exploding with a frank laugh, and to come back to kiss his lover who answered with pleasure to the kiss.

Error didn't understand Ink, Ink didn't understand Error, and neither of them tried to understand the other. They didn't need to. They had never needed it. Their affair was like this: incomprehensible, but how powerful and passionate.

It didn't matter: the only thing to understand was that they loved each other.


End file.
